


Collared

by ilcuoreardendo



Series: The Sacrifice (Universe) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Anakin, Dominant Qui-Gon, Feels, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Canon Compliant, Obi-Wan Made a Deal, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Qui-Gon Lives, Sith, Sith Anakin, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Qui-Gon, Sith Qui-Gon Jinn, Sith Shenanigans, Smut, Top Anakin Skywalker, Top Qui-Gon Jinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 23:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: Obi-Wan joins his former master and his former master's apprentice on their ship. Anakin keeps a promise. Qui-Gon acts like the proverbial cat that got the canary.“I thought my show of good faith was joining you in the first place.”“It was. For Master. This? This is for me. Though I’m certain Master Qui-Gon will enjoy it too.”“Why?”“Because you’re mine. Ours. And while you’re with us, I want to see our mark on you.”





	Collared

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr wanted [#53 Collar](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com/post/168661264050/prompt-me), as a follow up to The Sacrifice. This is what came up.

* * *

They hit hyperspace before Qui-Gon sends a message to the council, detailing information on one of the arms dealers who runs shipments out of Carida.

Obi-Wan had nodded after Qui-Gon gave him the information to review, then allowed Anakin to drag him to the aft of the ship as Qui-Gon sent the message and made adjustments to their course.

Anakin, for once, does exactly as he promises.

He takes Obi-Wan to the bedroom.

It’s a little out of place for this style of ship, less utilitarian and more comfort, but simple enough. The large bed is the central feature. Obi-Wan briefly wonders if Anakin and Qui-Gon share this bed.

“I have something for you,” Anakin says, reaching into one of the lockers next to the bed. He pulls out a circle of black leather. A collar. He unhooks the intricate silver clasp and holds out the length of it. In the center are two briolette cut gems: one green, one blue. They seem suspiciously familiar and when Anakin comes closer, Obi-Wan can feel why. Kyber crystals. Or pieces of them.

He looks at Anakin. “Are those—“

“Yes. Mine. And Master Qui-Gon’s. Seems fitting, don’t you think?” he says, bringing the leather up to lie against Obi-Wan’s throat.

Obi-Wan takes a step back. He’d agreed to this madness. He hadn’t agreed to be collared like some animal.

Anakin frowns and Obi-Wan realizes he’s spoken aloud.

“You’re not an animal,” Anakin says.

“Then why the collar?”

“Think of it as a show of good faith.”

“I thought my show of good faith was joining you in the first place.”

“It was. For Master. This? This is for me. Though I’m certain Master Qui-Gon will enjoy it too.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine. Ours. And while you’re with us, I want to see our mark on you.” As he’s speaking, Anakin slips the leather strip around Obi-Wan’s throat, fastening it securely.

It lays heavy on Obi-Wan’s neck. He licks his lips, says nothing.

“There.” Anakin slips his forefinger beneath the collar and tugs Obi-Wan forward. “It’s a perfect fit.” This last bit is said against Obi-Wan’s mouth and Anakin’s tongue follows the words, trailing over the fullness of Obi-Wan’s bottom lip.

“It’s beautiful,” Qui-Gon says from the doorway. With Anakin holding him in the kiss, Obi-Wan can just glance at Qui-Gon from the corner of his eye. The look on Qui-Gon’s face says he’s talking about more than the collar.

Anakin slips a hand beneath his tunic, fingers warm against Obi-Wan’s skin. He flattens his palm against Obi-Wan’s back, pulls him close and deepens the kiss until he’s all Obi-Wan’s focused on. Lips and tongue and teeth, taste of salt and skin, the peculiar flavor that is Anakin.

Then there’s heat at his back, fingers combing through his hair, sliding over his shoulders and down his torso, finding the buttons of his trousers and Obi-Wan’s heart jumps.

He’s no virgin. He’s had lovers. Women and one man. But always one at a time. And never…never someone he knew as well as he knows his former master and the young man who almost ended up as his padawan.  The thought is overwhelming and the urge to flee coils in his muscles as Qui-Gon slips a hand into his open trousers, cups his growing erection.

“I’m not—“ he gasps, pulling away from Anakin. “I can’t—“

“All we want, is to make you feel good,” Qui-Gon says, pressing close.

“We’ll take care of you,” Anakin says. “You have our _word_.”

The implication is obvious. This is what Obi-Wan agreed to. He closes his eyes, steadies his breath, relaxes his muscles, allowing Qui-Gon to take some of his weight. “It’s…so much,” he says, finally.

Qui-Gon brushes his chin against Obi-Wan’s temple, coarse beard tickling Obi-Wan’s skin. “Slowly, then. Anakin. No need to overwhelm him. We have time.”

Anakin bites his lip, gives a curt nod.

Qui-Gon’s arms tighten around Obi-Wan. “Anakin wants to taste you. Let him,” he says, pushing Obi-Wan gently toward the other man.

Anakin’s grin is feral as he catches Obi-Wan around the waist, draws him toward the bed. Obi-Wan allows Anakin to slip the tunic over his head, unbutton his trousers and push him to sit on the edge of the mattress. Then he’s kneeling in front of Obi-Wan, tugging his trousers down his thighs and with the gusto of youth, taking Obi-Wan’s half-erection into his mouth.

The soft heat and slickness is sudden and strong and Obi-Wan grips the blankets and gasps, struggling to keep from arching up into Anakin’s mouth.

Anakin pulls off him with a wet pop.  “It’s okay,” he says, fingers tracing Obi-Wan’s hips. “Let go. I want to feel you.” When Anakin sucks him down again, he does something with his tongue that has Obi-Wan throwing back his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan sees Qui-Gon. His old master has seated himself in a chair just beyond where Anakin kneels. His long legs are stretched out, one hand lies on his belly, the other is draped over the armrest. His head is tilted to the side and slightly back, eyes glittering and lips softly parted as though he’s taking in the scent and taste of Obi-Wan’s desperate and too sudden arousal.

A sharp heat shoots up his spine as Anakin drags teeth lightly along his erection before soothing the small hurt with his tongue, lapping at the tip gently and then taking him steadily until his nose is pressed to Obi-Wan’s pubic bone.

Then he hums.

The heat and flex of Anakin’s throat, the soft vibrations, Qui-Gon’s glittering eyes on him. It’s too much and too soon. A violent shudder ripples through Obi-Wan’s body and he comes, feeling Anakin draw back a little to catch his release on his tongue.

When Obi-Wan can breathe again, he’s lost a moment. He’s lying on the bed, fully naked save for the collar around his throat.

Anakin is curled around him like a Krayt dragon around its young. Qui-Gon is setting a soft pile of fabric into one of the bedside lockers. Obi-Wan realizes it’s his clothes. Then his former master is sliding onto the bed with them and Obi-Wan has nowhere to go but back into Anakin’s arms or forward into Qui-Gon’s. So he lies still.

“He does taste as good as he smells, Master,” Anakin murmurs drowsily, breath stirring the hair at Obi-Wan’s temples.

And for some reason, the observation makes Obi-Wan tense.

“Shh.” Qui-Gon’s voice is soft, as if he’s talking to one of his adopted wild things. He presses his lips to Obi-Wan’s forehead. Gentle, almost familial.

It is an unfamiliar gesture from his former master.

He likes it.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Qui-Gon continues, stroking Obi-Wan’s face, his jaw, the tender skin of his neck just below the collar. “You’re with us. And it’s right where you belong.”


End file.
